And She Drank The Poison
by starlit skyes
Summary: Just as she had left the Manor, Lucius had whispered into her ear. “Come to me,” he had said silkily. “You know you want to.” She had met his steely eyes as she stepped out of the house, and wordlessly, she had nodded. She did not know why, but she had.


**A/N: **I really enjoyed writing this. It's had me typing away furiously for like two hours without thinking of anything else.

Apart from **Eyes on Fire**, another song that was inspiring for this was **Temptation**, by **Leaves Eyes**.

Anyway, I also wanted to say: **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROWAN!!** A Lucius-shaped cake, and Snape-shaped balloons for you! And a finger puppet or two! :D

So if you like this fic, Ro, think of it as a birthday present. :P

* * *

_I'll seek you out, _

_Flay you alive _

_One more word and you won't survive _

_And I'm not scared of your stolen power_

_I see right through you any hour_

--

_I won't soothe your pain_

_I won't ease your strain _

_You'll be waiting in vain _

_I got nothing for you to gain _

--

_I'm taking it slow _

_Feeding my flame _

_Shuffling the cards of your game _

_And just in time _

_In the right place _

_Suddenly I will play my ace _

--

_Eyes on fire _

_Your spine is ablaze_

_Felling any foe with my gaze _

_And just in time _

_In the right place _

_Steadily emerging with grace_

**–Eyes On Fire, by Blue Foundation**

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The ice-cold, sharp wind blew in great, powerful gusts across the lonely, gleaming streets, sending biting snow in curtains at anyone who moved against it. Ginny walked quickly, her feet numb and her lips trembling, tightly winding her shawl around herself.

Finally, she faced it – the shiny, polished door, of which the wood was dark and beautiful and intricately carved. For one moment, she stared at the door – it was expensive, it was perfect...it was cold, it was impenetrable. Just like the man she meant to meet, the man at the other side of the door. There was nothing written on the door, no sign or placard or inscription stating whose office it was. But there was not one person in the entire city who didn't know whose the door was – _he_ needed no sign to state his presence; he was _there_, and that seemed to have some overwhelming power.

Somehow still standing in the cold, she sighed. She thought of how it had all started, how it had begun – in a strange way, the beginning had seemed like an end to her. And yet, the end had been like some sweet, lovely forbidden fruit, promising demise – but bite after delicious bite, the fruit remained, pristine and mocking, encouraging another bite. Like poison, except it hadn't killed her yet.

She had visited the Malfoy Manor – the tall, lovely white house, gleaming with white marble in the sunlight – for the first time. Like today, it had been cold; it had been Christmas holidays, and she had entered the threshold of the house with her hand in Draco Malfoy's. She had caught his eye as she entered, and he had smirked back at her. "So, here it is," he had said in amusement. "Malfoy Manor. If you marry me, Ginny, it'll all be yours."

She remembered her carefree laughter that day. "Not even a stinking large mansion can make me marry you."

Then, she had met _him._

Draco had looked carefully at Ginny, and then said softly, "My father."

She remembered that first glimpse of him – she had seen him many times, from a distance, and she had quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to provoke the feeling that filled her whenever she did – but now, she looked at him squarely, and she remembered how every feature of his face had seemed so sharp to her. The high, pale cheekbones, the square, brutal chin. She remembered the eyes, the metallic grey, steely eyes, glittering at her in some emotion that could not be read.

Those piercing, stormy eyes had then fixed ominously on her, those sumptuous lips curving into a derisive smirk. "Ginevra," he had whispered, toying with the name, almost _tasting_ it as it left his lips. Tasting it with what felt like mocking enjoyment.

And she had stared, stared and stared, at his statuesque face, each icy cold plane adding to the chiseled pulchritude of his features, and the gleaming blond hair flowing down his back in a curtain of silver. She had gazed into the cold, slate-grey eyes that held nothing but cruel amusement, and said nothing, nothing at all.

She remembered how Draco had to suddenly leave, on account of some visitor that had wanted to meet him. "I'll be right back," Draco had murmured into her ear as he left the room. "You can wait in the library." With a last, wary glance at his cool, impenetrable father, who stood gracefully against the wall scrutinizing her, Draco had left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Cheeks burning, but mouth feeling unbelievable dry, she had stood there, feeling so very aware of his presence, and trying her best not to show it. She wanted to flee, to run away, but something, part of which was her pride, did not want to leave when his eyes were fixed so mockingly on her, as if daring her to react. She'd felt the atmosphere get thicker with the tension – the silent tension, of being there, a few feet from him, the man who was the cause of her possession by Lord Voldemort, the man that had been so willing to sell her life in return for the destruction of his enemy.

"Ginevra," Lucius said finally, softly. He had stared across the room at her, eyes unreadable. "Well, Ginevra." A smirk flitted across his face. "How you have grown, since the last time we...met."

"Yes," Ginny had agreed, a bitter smile spreading across her face. "So you noticed, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius had leant away from the wall, primly dusting his robes that, Ginny noticed now, were a deep, regal emerald green. And then he stood there, tall, powerful, his silvery hair falling over his shoulders gleaming against the dark material of his robes. "Come now," he had murmured, a slight twist to his lips. "So formal...is it quite necessary, under the circumstances?"

"What circumstances?" Ginny had asked shakily.

The smirk faded from his lips, and Lucius slowly moved to her, his grace stunning – and then a vivid, predatory gleam entered his icy grey eyes. Ginny held her breath, as he ran a long, pale, slender finger up the hollow of her neck, and then softly touched her cheek, in almost a caress. His eyes were hard, but otherwise unreadable, seeming like chips of lustrous slate. "These circumstances," he whispered coldly. And then he swooped down, and met her lips in a slow, consuming, fiery kiss. His mouth molded to hers in the unbelievable heat between them, and Ginny gasped into his mouth, her arms falling away from his chest and giving up all protest as he broke down her barriers with his touch. He explored her mouth with his tongue, not in love, passion or desire, but in utterly masterful deliverance, as if she was all his to touch and exploit. As if it didn't matter even if she wasn't, because he would use her anyway. His fingers fondled her body, that shivered under his power, and she forgot all need for breath as she smelt his scent – the spicy, dark smell that enveloped all her senses.

In a few moments, he broke away, his eyes dark, glittering, and then those lips curved again into a scornful smile. "Steady yourself, Ginevra," he told her as he moved away to his table, and fingered a pristine bottle of raspberry vodka at his little bar. He poured himself a glass. "Draco will be here soon."

He looked no more at her as he sipped his drink, and Ginny stared at him, face white as bone, filled with an unbelievable, awful hatred for this man, hatred that made her want to run to him now, and pull his face down to hers again – and her face knew no more color when Draco entered the room, surprised to find her there, and took her to show her the banquet hall.

But just as she had left the Manor, Lucius had whispered into her ear. "Come to me," he had said silkily. "You know you want to."

She had met his steely eyes as she stepped out of the house, and wordlessly, she had nodded. She did not know why, but she had.

Yes, Ginny thought now, still facing the door. That was how it had started...and gone on, for two years now. Just as wordlessly as she had nodded that day, she would meet him, wherever he wanted her to. They would gaze at each other in silence, and then he would gather her in his arms, his lips searching hers. She would kiss him back, remembering acutely that these were the same lips with which she had kissed his son. And as if he could sense the thought in her, he would smile scornfully at her, as if challenging her to stop, but knowing perfectly well that she wouldn't.

Ginny took a deep breath, and pushed open the door, entering the room.

It was a strange room, and it had always struck her, every time she entered it, with the gleaming black marble floors, the high ceilings and the utter _coldness_ of the walls. But now she saw only the man – again the hatred filled her, and it only seemed to fill her with the fire again, the fire that possessed her every time she made love to him. He sat facing her, his jet-black robes making his face seem almost ghostly. He held a glass of some deep red drink in which ice tinkled, and he regarded her silently now, his eyes shadowy in the dim light.

Ginny swallowed. She closed the room behind her, and took a step towards him, trying to gather her words.

Lucius gazed at her calmly, this young, beautiful woman he had coveted since she was twelve. Her hair swirled around her face in a curtain of scarlet, and her chocolate brown eyes, usually starry and carefree, were hard now – troubled, but strangely hostile. "Ginevra," he acknowledged flatly.

She said nothing, simply looking at him, seeming to be drawing resolve to say something.

His lips twisted into a little smirk. "I take it this is no ordinary social visit?" he queried with a slight sneer. He did not know why he was egging her on, encouraging whatever it was she was about to do – perhaps because he was sure she would not be able to do it. It was...enjoyable, to test her strength.

"Well?" he demanded finally. He rose, and set down his drink. He looked down at her, eyes narrowed, that strange twist still on his lips.

"Lucius..." Ginny began. "We...we need to talk." She suddenly seemed to realize the awful, thick _silence_ in the room, that came with its coldness. There was no sound of ruffling paper, no breeze, no crackling fire in the cold marble grate. The only sound was the ticking of the huge grandfather clock that stood at the corner, its silver pendulum swinging back and forth with a terribly ironic sort of serenity. The thin sound grated against her nerves, as though reminding her to get on, to end this. But it also reminded her strangely of Lucius – cold, businesslike, unstoppable.

Lucius cocked a single eyebrow. "Talk, is it?" he said softly. "I don't see why that's necessary, Ginevra." His eyes glinted. "We have never done much of it before, have we?"

A furious light lit her eyes, and he was amused again. Stupid, angry kitten, thinking she was making any difference to him at all... "No," Ginny answered bitterly, a quaver in her voice. "Because it's usually just plain, dirty sex, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lucius said calmly. "Why?" He took a slow step towards her, a smile hovering over his lips. "Did you ever expect anything else, Ginevra?"

Ginny stared at the ground for a moment, her mouth a thin, hard line. And then she threw back her head, and her eyes were glittering with anger...and was it tears? "Why do you always call me _Ginevra?_" she asked harshly. "You've known me two years, why is it always Ginevra?"

A soft laugh escaped Lucius as he regarded her with calm, luke-warm incredulity. "I'm so sorry," he said silkily. "I didn't realize you wanted some show of familiarity, affection...that's it, isn't it, _Ginny_?" He laughed again. "But I'm afraid I do not put up shows. It was, and always will be, like you so charmingly put it" – Lucius smiled, a cold, cruel smile – "plain, _dirty_ sex."

Ginny stared at him, pure, unadulterated hatred flowing out of her as she looked unblinkingly at the beautiful, unfeeling, mocking face. She realized then, that she had come to hope for something from this man. She had thought, that somehow, after two years of secret meetings, he had come to care about her, just a little bit – that would justify, in a tiny way, her meeting him now. If Lucius had some tiny bit of affection for her, she could convince herself that she wasn't being low, being dirty – the self-disgust at being unfaithful to Draco and sleeping with his own father might have faded. She might have thought genuine emotions had something to do with it...

Ginny swallowed hard, trying to hold back the words she wanted to fling at him in furious screams. "I hate you," she said in a low, shaking voice. "I hate you. That's what I came here to say, you hear me? I don't want to meet you anymore. I want it to stop, because I can't stand you, Lucius – I _hate you._"

Lucius suddenly swept up to her, his hands at her face, and smoothly pulled her lips down to meet his. He shut his eyes, feeling only the sensation of her soft, velvety lips on his, her satiny skin under his fingers. Ginny held still, teeth clenched, heart pounding. Every pore of her wanted to respond to him, to open up herself for him to explore with his mouth, his tongue. She didn't move.

Lucius smirked against her lips, and finally pulled away. His face inches away from hers, he stared into her eyes, his own like chips of ice. The smile faded from his face, leaving it utterly expressionless. "You think I didn't know that?" he whispered, and his cool breath washed over her.

Slowly, he retreated, until he was feet away, gazing calmly at her again. "Did you honestly believe," he said, his voice soft, "that I didn't know?" Lucius snorted quietly. "Ginevra. You poor, stupid fool."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny demanded breathlessly. She was still filled with the tension from his cool kiss, the way his most unemotional caress could have this effect on her, and an awful sort of confusion from his words.

"I enjoyed it," Lucius stated, a certain tightness around his jaw. "Your pathetic disgust, your meaningless, strong hatred."

"I don't understand you."

Lucius said nothing for a moment, and then a smirk twisted his lips again. "I enjoyed it, Ginevra...because you fancied that I cared. That I cared how you felt when I touched you, how you felt when I looked at you. But I didn't. I saw you hatred, Ginevra –" his voice was deceptively calm, serene – "and it made me want to laugh."

"I still don't understand," Ginny said through her teeth.

"All right," Lucius said flatly. "I shall make it clearer to you." He paused. "Look at you now, glaring at me, thinking that the expression in your eyes should have some sort of effect on me, that the fury in your face should incite a similar reaction from me. That was how it always was, Ginevra.

"You thought, in some stupid, emotional way, that my being aware of your anger would be a sort of revenge for you, didn't you?" Lucius laughed mirthlessly, his eyes remote. "You thought that Lucius Malfoy, sleeping with his son's girlfriend who despises his very name, would have some sort of impact on me. I know you, Ginevra. I know your kind. That, according to you, I stoop to making love to a woman who loathes me from her every pore. That the fact that your loathing does not stop you from returning my caresses, because you wanted me to assume I became so worthless to you that you could enjoy the 'plain, dirty sex'." Lucius slowly picked up his glass, and the ice tinkled merrily, as he sipped it, standing tall and graceful against his desk.

"Yes!" Ginny said, her voice loud and hard. "Because that's all you're good for, Lucius Malfoy – plain, dirty sex! And a cunning, equally dirty plan once in a while, to ruin someone else's life like you tried to do to mine!" She furiously wiped the tears from her face.

"There it is again," Lucius sneered. "You put on the act of the tragic, brave little girl, to whom cruel, evil Lucius Malfoy did terrible, atrocious crimes. But Ginevra, your reasons for allowing, and returning each of my kisses and touches was not what you try to call it – what you try to make me believe."

Ginny's eyes widened with terrible, choking mortification. "I have not tried," she said in a shaking, shrill voice, "to make you believe anything. You think I am honestly dumb enough to try get revenge by having _sex _with you?" Ginny let out a shriek of mirthless laughter. "Lucius, stop trying to fool yourself!"

"But again," Lucius continued in a low voice, his eyes glinting dangerously, "you miss the point. I saw your hatred, Ginevra, on the very first day. I saw your mind – try denying it, but you won't convince anyone! And Ginevra, you can't imagine how much, _how much,_ I enjoyed watching it all. You little _girl_, trying to hurt me with your pathetic little dislike!" His voice was still quiet, controlled, silky, the only part of him betraying the tiniest bit of emotion his eyes. But his eyes betrayed only pure scorn. "You innocent child, falling prey, in spite of my supposed _cruelty_, to the force of my gaze on you, the force of my touch on your skin.

"I know I am right about your motives, Ginevra, but understand now, you little fool, that this makes you the weaker one – never me."

Ginny's eyes were now painfully dry, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared fiercely into his glinting grey eyes, the color of icy steel, and she couldn't disagree with him. She knew that his beauty struck her through all of her hurt and aversion. That the very impossibility of such a moment drew her in...

For long moments they looked silently at each other, the clock still ticking between them, the man and the young lady.

"I'm never coming back," Ginny said finally. "You get that, don't you? I'm never seeing you again." She clenched her jaw. "And if I do, you'll just be my father in-law, and I'll smile politely at you, like I don't know you at all. Get that, Lucius?" she continued intensely. "This is the end of all this...unbearable, shameful..." words failed her, and she took deep, shaky breaths to steady herself.

Lucius seemed to freeze for a second, before suddenly he had her in his arms again – and for the first time ever, his hands were rough on her skin, making her gasp in pain. His fingers clenched painfully in her hair, and he pulled her harshly against himself. Before Ginny knew it, she was against the wall, shoved hard against it, and his hands were ravishing her skin. "Unbearable, is it, now?" Lucius breathed against her cheek. "Shameful?"

Ginny trembled feebly against his powerful body, feeling acutely every muscle, every graceful limb. "Get away from me," she whispered.

Lucius laughed, a soft, almost gentle laugh, his eyes roving her face in what seemed like approval. He pulled her face up to his, and roughly crushed his lips to hers, one hand clenched in her soft hair, the other tilting her head back enough to give him access. She shoved at his chest, but he didn't move, smirking again against her lips. He delved roughly into her mouth, ignoring her feebler twitches and moans. Finally, with a little whimper of submission that nearly made Lucius stop in the immense feeling of triumph that filled him, her lips moved with his in surprising passion.

After a few, short minutes, Lucius moved back. His face was expressionless as he regarded her silently, the girl who was now distinctly disheveled, hair in disarray and face flushed bright red. Ginny gasped, trying to catch her breath – and her eyes stung with tears. She looked at him; his eyes were piercing, and she shuddered.

Ginny gathered all her remaining spirit, and threw up her head, staring squarely at him. "This is the last time," she said in a low, firm voice, eyes blazing. "Never again will you do this to me."

Lucius gave her a small, scornful smile. "Ginevra," he said simply. It seemed that one word was enough for him to establish how amusing he felt her assertion to be.

Ginny furiously blinked, breathing heavily, and then said, "What?"

Lucius said nothing.

Suddenly, it was all too much. His kiss, _him,_ being here, when Draco would be wondering where she was. She felt it all mounting over her, and she cried, "_Stop it!_ Stop staring at me, stop – messing me up like this –"

"Ginevra," Lucius interrupted calmly, "next Thursday, at four, I think I should be free."

"I am in love," Ginny shouted at his face, "with _your son!_" She took a furious step towards him. "I am nineteen years old, and I'm going to marry Draco!"

Ginny turned away from him, and bitterly pulled open the door. The icy gust of wind hit her as she faced the snowy, gelid streets. But his voice, soft, smooth as satin, with that note of amusement and scorn, stopped her.

"Draco is lucky to have a..._passionate_ woman like you." Lucius watched her back stiffen, an odd shudder rippling through her, and his lips twisted into a smirk. "Go to him, Ginevra. He loves you more than you know."

Ginny bit her lip, staring at the ground fiercely. Suddenly she turned, and she seized the pristine crystal vase at the little stool to her right. Without looking at Lucius, she flung it at him, with all her might, an involuntary cry of fury escaping her as she heard it shatter. She didn't look to see if it had hurt him – she knew it would not have – and she stepped out into the frosty street, and walked away.

* * *

**A/N: **Even if I do say so myself, I think it isn't half _bad. _So anyway, please, do review. And Rowan especially – tell me what you think!

**~starlit skyes~ **


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